Persevere
by 1ceuponatime
Summary: Hayate had better things to do than watch them watch his body deteriorate. One Shot.


:I have a soft spot for Hayate, the sickly swordsman Masashi Kishimoto killed off. He's just so depressing. This was inspired by Kilerkki's breathtaking TwentySix Moons.:

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It wasn't just a collapsed lung, or pneumothorax as the stupid medics called it, because that wouldn't have been much of a problem. No, it was the fact that the jutsu had basically torn away all of his left lung, rather than just puncturing it, and left the remaining tissue barely functional.

A wound like this should have killed him in minutes. As it was, he liked to persevere. But grit can't grow back a lung.

Normally, medical ninjutsu uses chakra to stimulate the body's cells; in the same way a shinobi's developed chakra allows them to heal faster than a civilian. It increases the cells' speed of multiplication and therefore growth of the damaged area. In this case, the attack to his chest had deadened or impaired all of the surrounding lung tissue, ending any chance of either method of healing.

Hayate hated medics, even then. They said this with a look of fascination, as if a chance to study him was worth his lung. He might not have minded had they been able to do something more than talk about it.

Predictably, they hadn't, but he had better things to do than watch them watch his body deteriorate.

The chuunin exams approached quicker than expected, and a month after escaping the hospital, he found he still had his skill, if not strength, speed, and reputation as the most promising of his year.

The application was filled out without his parents' knowledge, and the shinobi resignation forms the hospital mailed him gathered dust somewhere beneath his bed. Hayate saw it as a fitting place for them.

He failed that year.

The wound had been to his chest, not his head, so the first test was hardly challenging for him, Iruka, and the Mitarashi girl who joined their team when Iwashi chickened out.

They couldn't have failed the second if they tried. It seemed being the only student of a legendary Sannin had given their third member quite an advantage.

Then, as fate would have it, his first real fight paired him against the snake-bitch.

The worst part wasn't that he embarrassed himself in front of hundreds of people. It was that he knew he would have won if he'd been a second faster here, if he'd had a little more strength there.

"Give up Hayate. Orochimaru-sensei says you're just killing yourself."

He couldn't land a single damaging blow, but his taijutsu had definitely been better than hers just a couple months ago. Now a slight girl was both stronger and faster than he was. As he was carried out of the stadium, he knew it was more than embarrassing, it was pathetic.

The most talented genin of the year probably couldn't pass the academy graduation exams anymore. The medics brought new forms directly to his hospital bed this time, with a pen and well-minded pleas.

He refused.

They kept him there for two weeks. Apparently, such physical strain had redamaged his lung, resulting in the bloody, hacking cough, and he really must retire from active duty before he killed himself.

Hayate refused.

Iruka visited him once, wearing a brand new chuunin vest that was identical to the one Mitarashi had no doubt received, and agreed with the medics. His sensei came too, scolding him for not reporting his damaged condition and asking him to give up the shinobi lifestyle.

On the way home, he bought his first katana.

They said the skill of the wielder was the strength of the sword. He chose one with enough green in the hilt to match Konoha's chunnin vest.

He'd never be the strongest, fastest, or toughest, not anymore. The cough would always be there, they said. His lung might never recover.

But eventually his sword replaced any missing part of him, and the dance, the Dance of the Crescent Moon, that was air enough for Hayate.

He'd persevere.

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:Poor Hayate…I hate Baki so much. Anyway, I made up the medical ninjutsu part, I'm not really sure how it works.

I like this version of him, a prodigy who was injured and had to start over again.

It's certainly depressing enough.:


End file.
